The Story Of Her Life
by Vreeka
Summary: Song-fic. 3yrs Post NFA and Chosen. "Buffy Summers, famed slayer, lives her life in a perpetual haze of combat training, weapons, and ash." What happens when Angel waltzes back into her life, but now human? Plotless fluff!


Disclaimer: No copyright intented, all characters belong to the fantastical Joss Whedon.

Summary: Song Fic, inspired from Losing Keys by Jack Johnson. A reunion story, post NFA. Buffy has convinced herself that she's moved on, but what happens when she sees him again, and he's human? PLOTLESS FLUFF! Rated M, for language.

Spoilers: Everything until Not Fade Away

A/N: I'M BACK! It's been too long since I posted last, life has been hectic these last 6 months; no internet, moving and always working. Sorry guys for keeping you waiting. Anyways, here's my first story since my unwanted Hiatus, and of course it's B/A (always). Had to get my fix in, what can I say? Let me know what you think!

So, anywho.. enjoy!

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**THE STORY OF HER LIFE**

**_So come and tell me something that you've already told me_**

**_Cause everybody's heard all our lovely stories_**

**_I'm hoping some of them are true_**

Buffy Summers, famed slayer, lives her life in a perpetual haze of combat training, weapons, and ash. Buffy Summers, college drop out, lives her life in the unpredictability of now. Buffy is incapable of blending these two polar opposites sides of herself, and as her slayer life thrives, her personal life ceases to exist. Buffy has her family; Giles, Willow, Xander and Dawn, but they're living their own lives too, so the moments are short and sweet and regrettably superficial. She doesn't know what's happened, where they grew apart, how to fix it exactly.

Buffy lives with her slayer sisters; trains them, protects them, and feels less alone. She finally knows what a shared burden feels like.

The journey she's taken since becoming the one, has never read as a fairytale, even though it's never lacked for villains. Buffy's learning to take her life in stride, and forget the permanently elusive conclusion to her tale. Her past is gone and the future doesn't exist. Buffy finds home in the present; safely ensconced in the act of now. This routine of change never ruffles her feathers, no matter how radical it becomes. In fact, it is in this constant flux that she's reassured in her belief that nothing is meant to last forever.

So when Angel calls, and she hears her name from his mouth for the first time in 3 years; there is no hitch in her breath, no quiver in her voice as she responds to his version of hello.

"Angel?" There is something distinctly different in her familiar response, a nonchalance she's never experienced with him before. As long as she's known him, there's been a part of her that has hanged on his every word, his every glance, and every touch. When Angel kissed her for the first time, this part of her magnified ten-fold and there was no going back. Such was her conviction to him, that it never wavered; not even when he was evil and her love felt like betrayal. So, what Angel failed to realize when he left her, was that even though he could remove himself from the picture and put someone new in his place, he wasn't really gone; he was just hidden underneath layers of paint. But now, her one word response has chipped away all those layers only to find blank canvas. In one word, Buffy feels weightless for the first time in 10 years.

However, some things will never change and he hardly has to ask before she agrees to go to L.A. to see him. He assures her that there is no apocalypse, 'at least not anymore' he says.

"What does that mean?" She asks briskly, heading for her too small closet, and pulling out her slightly tattered suitcase. Even as free as she is she can't help but feel distress at this knowledge.

"It means exactly what it sounds like." She's throwing clothes into her suitcase when he says, "'really, everything is fine now."

Buffy feels her cheeks warm when she realizes that he can probably hear the commotion she's throwing, so she stops and sits on her bed instead. There is a brief lull in conversation, and unknowingly the same thought is on both of their minds. The aforementioned detachment pops into her head again and with renewed lightness she opens her mouth to ask.

"There are some things I need you to know." He says suddenly, and for a quick moment she wonders if he can read her mind because he adds, "I can't tell you over the phone, so don't ask."

She wants to chuckle at his insight, but there is darkness in his tone of voice tinged with regret, so she doesn't. A few more specifics are interchanged, and for the first time in her life there is no sense of loss when the call ends.

Explaining all this to the others is easier than expected. The only argument made is the face Xander makes, leaving Buffy with the distinct reinforcement that the relationship once held with the en souled vampire truly is over. In her slightly still burning sense of panic she overlooks the possibility that perhaps they know more than they're letting on.

The whole flight, curiosity fills her head and she thinks of all the possible scenarios to be played out in L.A. She doesn't even get close.

**_I've been losing lots of keys lately, I don't know what that means_**

**_But maybe I'd be better off with things that can't be locked at all_**

Upon arrival, she half expects to find the city in rubble. Everything looks unchanged until she makes her way to the Hyperion, per their agreement. One moment, she's sitting in a cab on an everyday city street, the next, she's in a post-war zone. What's most unusual, is that everyone, including her cab driver, are unfazed by it all. She thinks about asking what happened, but before she can, the taxi comes to a halt. Buffy looks out the window, and sees the large building Angel has called home since Sunnydale. As she pays and gets out, she can't help the smile that forms on her face as she's briefly reminded of Goldilocks. Only in this scenario, Goldilocks' is Angel and he's less concerned with 'just right' and more with 'just bigger'.

She shakes her head slightly, and heads for the entrance. Even in the state the building is in, she can see the appeal it must have once had. The garden entrance looks as if once upon a time, it held life in bloom; the front doors are detailed and intricate even with the occasional wooden window, and the high ceilings are elegant even though they make the bare main floor too big, and cause her voice to echo as she calls out a soft hello. Letting go of her suitcase she walks down the few steps and further into the lobby.

"Buffy." she hears him call out, and she turns to face him, and sees him walking down the steps she hadn't realized were there. He smiles slightly when their eyes connect and even though she knew he'd look the same, his eternal youth is still startling. "Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

She shrugs nonchalantly, "It's OK. I'm jet-lagged and my slayer senses are puttin' on the fritz." He offers a small chuckle and she beams with pride at being able to use a pop culture pun he actually gets.

"I didn't think you knew about Fred Astaire." He says.

"I could say the same about you."

They both smile, and this casual tension-free conversation she's having with him is a first. She likes it. But, because once a slayer, always a slayer, she gets straight to business.

"So what..."

"Did I want to tell you?" He interrupts. He had stopped when he reached the same level her suitcase was at, but he resumes his descent until he's standing in front of her. "I'll tell you, but first things first... are you hungry?"

**_I've been feeling kind of sea sick lately, see you reaching to me,_**

**_Gonna save me? You were me_**

**_I would much rather take the fall_**

Non-the-wiser, Buffy lays on the big bed in the guest room Angel set up for her. It'd been a long flight and she hadn't been kidding when she had said she was jet-lagged. The food he prepared had helped, but as food tends to do, she was suddenly overwhelmed with the intense desire to sleep. She wonders why she's here, and possible scenarios dance in her mind as the soft feather down duvet slowly lulls her to sleep.

It's dark outside when she wakes up, feeling smothered but well rested. The sheen of sweat she feels on her body caused by the hot Californian summer nights forces her into the shower. The water is refreshing as it cools her overheated body.

She dresses in light clothing, and runs a brush through her damp hair. When she realizes that she's been pruning herself longer and more arduously than necessary she forces herself out of her bedroom in search of things that need to be said.

He's sitting in the exact same place he had been while she was eating, except now he has a book in his hand. It reminds her of an Angel past, and it suddenly dawns on her that there is no one here but her and him. He's already looking at her when she reaches him, and putting down the book he asks, "Did you rest well?"

"I did, thanks." She responds simply, and takes a seat in front of him. Now is the time for revelations; she had tried to get some information out of him earlier, but he hadn't been very forthcoming. She thinks right now, that will probably be different. "So now that I'm just right," she smiles at her own inside joke, Angel doesn't get it and it only leaves him confused. "What do you need to tell me?"

Because it's a sight she recognizes well, his guilt-laced eyes aren't surprising. She doesn't rush him, and it's a few seconds later that he starts his story. With the right details, and the wrong ones omitted, he slowly fills her in on his life in L.A. He tells her about Doyle, and the quest of redemption he brought Angel, and then his subsequent death. He tells her about Cordelia, the gaining of her power and the growth she made as a person. He tells her how he grew to love Cordelia. Buffy expects this information to crush something inside her, but it doesn't. She feels sorrow at his evident loss, hopes she could have met this woman that has added a new bittersweet smile to Angel's repertoire. She places her hand over his, trying to comfort him. His head snaps down at their touching skin and when he looks at her again something that she can't quite put her finger on has changed and she removes her hand. He forges on, and tells her about Darla, and Connor. She thinks about telling him that she already knew, that Faith had already told her. She stays quiet instead. As his story progresses, and the events get more horrific; from Cordelia's takeover, to Connor's breakdown, she's reminded of her own last years on the Hellmouth. So much sadness and death and pain she marvels at how different their lives have become yet so essentially alike they still are.

During all this, Buffy has maintained a steady level of calm, listening patiently in a detached sort of way. It's not until he starts mentioning his temporary rule over Wolfram and Hart that her blood starts to boil. When he tells her of Andrew's visit, and the words that were said in her name she's not sure if she wants to ring Andrew's neck or interrupt and explain the depth of his lies. He holds his hand up, silently asking her to wait until he's done. He continues, tells her about Fred's tragic death and everything that happened after it. At this point Buffy is pacing the room because it is now her turn to brim with guilt.

"I didn't know." She blurts the minute words stop pouring from his mouth. "I'm so sorry, Angel."

"It doesn't matter anymore." He says. He's right, because Fred is still gone, and the damage caused by betrayal has already been done.

All conversation ceases for a few moments, and she can tell there is more by the set of his shoulders. Silently, she sits back down.

"Have you ever heard of the Shanshu prophecy?" He asks suddenly.

_**The world has it ways, to quiet us down**_

_**Down comes our spirits again**_

_**But down comes the strength to lift us up and then**_

She sits on an old wooden bench, graffiti tattooed on it's back, in a quiet cemetery, waiting for vampires. She idly plays with the stake, like a ball it jumps back and forth between hands. But she's kidding herself, because for all the destruction, there's surprisingly little to no bad energy felt here, in L.A.

Unable to sit still for any longer, Buffy stands and starts walking in whatever direction her feet lead her. She spends the next hour treading the streets of Los Angeles distracted, thinking.

_"I had no intention of surviving. This war against Wolfram and Hart was supposed to be my last. And I guess it kind of was."_

_"And that means what exactly?" Buffy's voice is all confusion, she feels as if there is something crucial she's not understanding. _

_Angel reaches out for her hand, and before she can pull away, places it over where his unbeating heart would be, but it is, beating that is. _

_"Buffy... I'm human." he says simply. _

Buffy knows the exact reason why she runs. It's not because of his news; that he's suddenly human thanks to some prophecy. She runs because she doesn't want to consider the reasons why Angel feels compelled to tell her his life's story. She's lived her life without him for so long now, and she's spent the last few days convincing herself that all that lies between them is past, so the notion that he may want her in his life now that he has one, frightens her more than any creature she's ever fought, even him. Because the truth is this: Buffy knows Angel's back better than his love and it would only be a matter of time til she saw it again.

However, she wishes she'd given him the chance to explain himself fully, but the minute she felt his heart beat under the palm of her hand, she had to not be there, not be touching him, had to be gone. Buffy feels as if she's finally pieced back together the fragments of her broken heart since he left her first, so she doesn't comprehend why she feels hope at his news. Why she longs for him to engulf her in his new found warmth. It was all supposed to be gone, yet there she had been, feeling like a sixteen year old all over again.

After what feels like an eternity, she heads back. She knows that she needs to hear the rest of it. Her steps slow down as the Hyperion comes into view, and when she's at the back entrance, her feet stop moving all together. She takes a deep breath, and walks inside.

Once inside, she's not really sure where to look for him, but as she walks further in, she sees him. He's sitting in the courtyard outside, his back to her. He's waiting, presumably for her, and a smile appears on her face at the thought. She walks through the lobby and up the stairs, through the still open door, out to him.

"I'm sorry for taking off like that." She says, startling him. Which happens to be a sight Buffy is not familiar with. This humanity thing, is going to take some time getting used to, she thinks.

He turns to face her, a sad smile on his face. "It's OK." he says. He turns his head back towards the front gate, and she uses the release of his gaze to take a seat next to him. He makes no indication that he's noticed her, though she's sure he does.

"So, what are you going to do now?" She asks suddenly. She can no longer hold this amicable pretense they have going on here. They've been through heaven and hell together, in every sense of the phrase, so there is no real reason they can't be frank with one another.

He looks at her then, the dark brown depth of his eyes unmasked for once. "When I realized that I was alive, wait no. OK," Angel pauses then, "My family died. Everyone I loved, died for my cause, my redemption or whatever the hell you want to call it. And I was supposed to join them. But no, I was alive alive, and they were all gone. Doyle, Cordelia, Wesley, Fred, Gunn, Darla, hell even Spike, all fucking dead, because of me. I wanted to be angry that I was alive, I wanted to wish that I was dead, but I didn't. I don't."

Angel reaches out and takes hold of her hand. She let's him. "When I realized my heart was beating, I was.. I was... happy. My first thought had been of you. Of what this could mean. And then I hated myself for that. For thinking of my own happy ending after everything that happened to them. I wasn't supposed to get it, I didn't deserve it, but I got it anyway. It took me awhile, because I didn't want to just barge back into your life. But I'm not a saint, so eventually I called. I have to know."

His eyes are pleading for an answer, but she asks instead, "I'm your happy ending?"

"Always." He answers.

Turns out, it takes only a few days in his presence for all the love she once felt for him to come rushing back. She knows it never really went anywhere, she only managed to convince herself otherwise for a while, but the truth never stays hidden for long.

She reaches out with her other hand, and places it softly along his cheek. "Then consider this happily ever after." She kisses him.

**_Been going up, when now for too long, forgot how_**

**_To let go seems too hard, too late now, to turn around_**

Buffy Summers, famed slayer, lives her life in the slow lane, training and teaching, talking of her glory days. Buffy Summers, mother and wife, lives her life in the rush of simple life. Buffy was once incapable of blending these two polar opposite sides of herself, until she found a common denominator. Buffy has her family again; Giles, Willow and Oz, Xander AND Dawn, everyone's lives blending into one another, growing closer, and she knows its because of him. Of what he brought with him, what he reawakened in her.

Buffy no longer lives with her slayer sisters; but she trains them still, protects them, and feels connected. She's embraced her shared burden.

The journey she's taken since becoming his one, has started to read as a fairytale, even though it's lacking for villains. Buffy still takes her life in stride, but now she appreciates every moment she has, until death finds her, and concludes her tale. The bitter past is gone and although the future still doesn't exist, her home in the present is brimming with happiness she never thought she'd have. The routine of her simple life never ruffles her feathers, no matter how tame it seems. In fact, it is in this constant pace that she's reassured in her belief that her and Angel are meant to last forever.

So when Angel speaks, and she hears her name from his mouth for the millionth time; there is always that hitch in her breath, the quiver in her voice at the way he says it, the way it means more than just her name. She always responds in kind, always says more than just his name, too.

"I love you."

**_The world has its ways, to quiet us down_**

~The End~

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A/N: Short and sweet, was going to take this other places, but it's been so long so I just decided to give them their happy ending, can't help myself!


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